What is God Really Like?

In this message from Luke 15, discover what God is really like through the parable of the Prodigal Son—a Father whose extravagant grace lets us leave, waits for us to come to ourselves, runs to meet repentant sinners, and still goes after the self-righteous.

Church members and friends can support St. John's By-the-Sea by visiting our website https://www.stjohnsbythesea.com/donate, where a donation can be made by PayPal if you prefer that to mailing your donations to the church.

What is God Really Like?

Good Morning. If someone who had never opened a Bible asked you one question, “So, what is God really like?” how would you answer?

I’ve found when people reject God, they’re not rejecting the God of the Bible, but a god they created in their own imagination. Some picture God as an angry judge just waiting for someone to mess up. Others think He tolerates too much evil, which is why our world’s a mess. In Luke 15, Jesus tells His most famous parable, The Prodigal Son, not simply to tell us about salvation, but to give us a good, Biblical picture, in just a few words, of what God is really like.

To start, the word prodigal doesn’t mean “lost.” It means extravagant, lavish, overly generous. The younger son was prodigal with his inheritance. And the father is even more prodigal with his grace. His love overflows expectations.

Our context for the Parable is that Jesus is teaching the Pharisees, who are grumbling because Jesus welcomes sinners and eats with them. This parable shows us four wonderful truths about what God is really like.

First, God lets us leave, but he never stops loving us. When the younger son is demanding his share of the inheritance, he’s essentially saying, “Dad, I wish you were already dead. I don’t want you, just your stuff.” We may think, “that’s really horrible,” but it’s really the root of every sin we commit. We want God’s gifts without wanting God Himself, answered prayer without conversation. People often ask, “If God doesn’t want people to sin, why doesn’t He stop them?” Jesus answers that question right here. The father doesn’t chain his son to the porch. He lets him go, not because he doesn’t love him. But because he does love him, --and love can’t be forced. That freedom is part of being created in God’s image. But His heart breaks as He watches us wander away from him.

Second, sin can’t fully satisfy. The money runs out, and “surprise!” all of his friends vanish. He ends up starving in a pigpen, which is about as low as a Jewish man could sink, wishing he ate as well as the pigs.

But the turning point comes as Luke says, when “he came to himself...” It’s language we use when someone wakes up after being unconscious.  

Sometimes God allows us to reach the end of ourselves before we finally look up. Maybe your pigpen isn’t a far country. Maybe it’s a hospital, ... an empty house, ... a relationship you can’t fix. Wherever it is, the pigpen becomes the place where grace begins, because sin always leaves us hungry, lonely, and homesick.

Third, the parable isn’t just about the son returning home, it’s about how God runs toward repentant sinners. The son prepares a speech all the way home, hoping to negotiate and earn his keep as a hired servant.

I’ve sinned against heaven and before you. I’m no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.

 That sounds humble. But I don’t think he completely understands grace, because he is still trying to fix the situation himself. He’s thinking, “If I work hard enough, maybe I can earn my place.”

That’s how a lot of people think Christianity works. If I’m good enough, if I go to church enough, if I clean up my life then God will accept me. But the Gospel isn’t about earning your way home, it’s about discovering that your Father has already come running to you.

Next, Jesus gives us one of the most beautiful pictures in all scripture.

While he was still a long way off, his father saw him...

Did you catch that? The Father saw him while he was still a long way off.

Which means the father had been watching.

Every day.             Hoping.                 Waiting.

Looking down that road. ...and felt compassion, and ran...

In that culture, noblemen didn’t run, as it meant abandoning dignity. (tunic) But the father cares more about his son than his reputation. He interrupts the son’s speech before the son can try to earn his place and says:

“Bring the best robe.” the father says. Cover those filthy clothes.

“Put a ring on his finger.” To restore his family authority.

It’s a beautiful picture of the Gospel. While our righteousness is filthy rags, like the son wore, God covers us with the perfect righteousness of Christ.

Many commentators believe the father wasn’t only moved by compassion. He was also protecting his son. The village knew exactly what the younger son had done. By running out first, embracing him publicly, the father covered his son before anyone else could shame him. Isn’t that exactly what Jesus has done for us?

Now that’s the reunion we remember, the running father, the robe, the ring. But Jesus isn’t finished, because God also goes after older brothers. The wayward sinners certainly needed to hear the story, and I’m sure those with Jesus rejoiced at hearing it. But Jesus main audience was the self-righteous Pharisees.

When the older brother hears the music, he refuses to join the feast. And just as he went out to the younger son, the father leaves home to plead with the older one. One was lost in rebellion. The other was lost in self-righteousness. Neither truly understood the father’s heart.

The older brother complains, “I’ve served you all these years.” 

Literally, “I’ve slaved for you.” He had lived in his father’s house for years without ever really knowing his father. Grace offended him because he thought everything should be earned. And that’s exactly what the Pharisees believed.

The story ends with an open door, intentionally. We are not told whether the older brother ever came inside, because the ending is up to the Pharisees.

And, of course, many times, us. Some never come home to Jesus because they just don’t want to admit that they have done anything wrong. Some think they need to earn it, and won’t accept grace out of pride.

Will we receive the Father’s grace or will we stand outside the feast because we think grace should be earned?

There are two lost sons in our story today, but only one Father.

·       A Father who lets us leave.

·       A Father who waits for us to come to ourselves.

·       A Father who runs to meet repentant sinners.

·       A Father who goes outside the feast to plead with proud people.

That is what God is really like.

If you identify with the younger son, hear the invitation of Jesus: Come home. The Father has been watching the road and gladly welcomes you home.

And if today you recognize yourself in the older brother, remember this: You don’t earn your place at the Father’s table either. You come exactly the same way your brother did. By grace alone. Because that's what God is really like.